A Trip to Italy (and maybe some runs) Part 10, Hello Coastline!

Chiara's Car Fully Loaded

Note:   You will notice that Blogger began acting up halfway through this post (not wrapping text around pictures). After completely wasting 30 minutes trying to cure its actions, I just gave in. Hope it's not too annoying.

It was time to say goodbye to the Villa and head for the coast. I confess to looking forward to the move mostly because the villa, while wonderful, was boring. And I, having never been to Italy, wanted to see stuff. So, we were off to Cinque Terre, five cities along the mountainous coast of Western Italy.

We were up moderately early for our departure. Kevin and Alex were on to another adventure, Blane and Leslie were headed to Monterosso (which was our destination), Kyle, Kaycee, Rachel and Joey to Rome (I think), John and Patty to Vernazza (one of the Cinque). First on the docket, Linda, John, Patty, and I needed to return "Chiara's Car" back to Chiara. First, however, I need a nice little run before attacking the day. An easy 3 miles would suffice.

The rental company sent directions. The GPS identified the train station. John's iphone zoomed in on the target. STILL, none of this accounted for the absolute madness of

Trattoria Desserts

the area within three miles of the train station. Rich, the driving, chilled, saint truly earned his wings in this version of a bad Larry, Moe and Curly episode.

Undaunted by the madness around me, we arrived at our destination on time, with a full tank of gas, and ready for yet another visit to the epic Firenze station. Possessing a little time, we grabbed a light lunch in this cozy place right across from the station called the Trattoria Dall'Oste. Service was good, we created room for our massive amounts of 
luggage and settled in for some eats. The food was good, the pastries and desserts were 
better. They had these little Nutella cookies that Linda became somewhat attached to, and 
I could see why.

The train ride from Rome to Florence was easy. We got on board, we placed our somewhat 
massive luggage in the luggage section, and we were off. Boarding the Florence train, no such

luggage compartment existed. That was an issue because 1) the train was packed 2) the 

overhead bin was smallish 3) our bags were HEAVY. It was a royal pain in the ass and nobody, 

and I mean, nobody was of any assistance whatsoever. Despite the Herculean task before us, 

we managed to stash our luggage up above, and find four seats. By the way, did I mention it 
was like 95 degrees in the anything-but-air-conditionedtrain. 

"Road" to the Porto

The train departed on time, and arrived in La Spezia, except for one minor detail, no place to 
park. What? I thought we were on a schedule here. Am I on Frontier Airlines? SO, we wait 20
minutes to park. Somehow we lug our bags OFF the train only to discover that figuring out what 
to do when you've missed the train is difficult in Italy. Some 20-30 minutes later we're on the 
train to Levanto with stops along the Cinque Terre. We bid a fond farewell to John and Patty in 
Vernazza and arrive in Monterosso ten minutes after.

Each of these five towns is right on the coast. Getting off the train was one word (other than
painful): stunning. The water was gorgeous, the shops and hotels sparkled, everything was
as could be imagined. While searching for the perfect coastal accommodations, I looked mostly
at Vernazza and Monterosso. Stepping off the train, I knew I had made a good decision.
Monterosso was great.

Monterosso

We called the Hotel to see about our ride up the hill. "You're late," they say. "Well, yeah we're late,
not much we could do about that. What do we do?" "You'll have to find another cab." Thanks.

We walked a hair to an area that might have some taxi traffic and BOOM, there one was. 
"Where to?" he asked. Hotel Souvenir," I say. "You're late," he (Danilo) says. "Well, yeah 
we're late, not much we could do about that. What do we do?"  Get in. But first, our driver tells 
us, he has to drop another couple at the Hotel Porto Roco. What we didn't know was the the 
Hotel Porto Roco was up a steep hill on an almost one lane trail with a small rail separating us 
from the cliff and the water. Slightly hair-raising. "That's kind of scary," Linda said. "Nah, I do 
it 18-20 times a day." Yikes.

By the time we check in (and by the way, our room is on the 5th floor and there is no elevator, 
and did I mention our bags are/were heavy?) and unpack a bit, it's time for some dinner. But,

Dinner at La Cambusa

oh yeah, our bags. Our bags are taken to the room by James. James is about 5-7, maybe 
145 pounds and is from Kenya. In fact, all of the hard working staff is from Kenya. James and 
his counterparts Robert and Joseph, clean landscape and lift things. Two Kenyan women,
Jean and another woman I didn't meet handle many other tasks. THEY WERE ALL FANTASTIC.
Oh and James brought our bags up one at a time, lifted over his head.

Deciding where to eat was a matter of walking a bit around town and sneaking peeks at the
plates of other patrons. We decided on a cute little, mostly outdoor place called La Cambusa.
I ordered the Sea Bass, Linda got the pesto pasta. The bread: awesome, roasted potatoes: 
magnifico, and I hear the pasta and the wine were top notch. Maybe, just maybe, the food truck
is turning in the right direction.

A nice walk and some Gelato followed dinner and soon it was time to hit the sack. Lo and behold,
no one was up drinking and chatting. It was just us.

Good night. I mean, buona notte.

A Trip to Italy (and maybe some runs) Part 9, Lucca and my Mission

Cover me, I'm going in
thru the Lucca Wall

It was Friday (I didn't miss this one). It was our last full day staying at the villa. I was on a mission.

The day we walked the streets and shopped the shops of Lucca, we had seen some wonderful handmade pottery that nicely depicted the Tuscan countryside. This morning, I was going to combine two of my favorite things: running and doing something for Linda. My goal was to get in my morning run within the gates of Lucca and find the pottery shop amidst the hundreds of shops we had seen. I arrived around 8, and Lucca was as I had hoped, completely void of people. A few were up on the city walls walking, running, and biking but that was not me today. I was the urban hunter. With intelligence as my guide, I decided that if I just ran the streets; up one, down the other, I would find the illusive shop. Wow, I couldn't have been more wrong.

After 4 miles of street running and nothing to show for it. I decided to just run and not search. The plan was twofold: I would enjoy the last miles of my run more if I was focused on the run, and by not searching I would find my shop. While I enjoyed the run, the trickery

Lucca in the morning

of the non-search search didn't work out. So upon completion of my six miles, I just walked.
Finally I had another idea. If I could get back to the church where the opera happened, I might be able to retrace some vaguely remember steps to the shop.

At 9:50 am, after 6 miles of running and another 2 walking, there it was! OPEN AT 10:30! What? Are you kidding me? Who opens at 10:30? I've been up since 6!!!! Doesn't this shop owner know what I have been through today? SIGHHHHHHHH. Oh well, let's walk around some more.

Now all was not lost. First and foremost, I had found the shop and without a severe lapse in memory it would allude me no more. Next, I had some time to shop for something for my sons. While I am not a big believer in gifts from Daddy's trip, I do know that a practical, well thought out present might be nice.

Pinarellos? I'm in!

Then, I find the perfect place, an Italian bike store.

Back near the turn of the century, after the death of their Mom, my boys and I did a ton of cycling. Many young men know their football roster, or the baseball lineup. The three of us once sat in a condo in Breckenridge and not only made up a cycling board game (lovingly called Mandelbaum), but identified 175 professional cyclists. Sick? I think not.

Anyway, an American woman who had married an Italian man owned the quaint little place that focused mostly on rentals but also had some cool stuff in general. What caught my eye was the official Giro di Italia hat knowing that each would find this to be a worthy addition to their hat collections. DONE!

Finally, it's 10:23 and it's back to the pottery shop. Lo and behold, she's opened early and my pot and plate await. I tell her of my crusade to not only find her but to acquire the target

Lucca has a carousel? Go figure.

of my shopping desire. She seems unimpressed. "You know, I could have gotten my wife a Giro hat," I wanted to say. Oh well, mission accomplished. So, it's 11 am and time that for me to drive back.

It has not been mentioned in a few posts, but by now, I have getting back to the villa DOWN. I follow the GPS (no matter where I am) till I find Poopy's, and I am good to go. Nailed it. Again! I also decide that this would be a good time to get gas and since there is a station right around the corner from Poopy's, it seems like the perfect place. I must confess that I was a hair nervous about working the whole "put gas in Chiara's car" thing, but it went without incident. Now, not only am I cool, chill Italian driving Rich, but I also know how to do the petroleum thing. 

A Nun and a Cop. Good Pair!

It was decided that the last full day at the Villa would be a relaxing one. Enjoy the pool, wander the grounds, visit the local store, maybe see the extremely cool museum/house just below us. It was also decided that we would head out this evening and sample the local fare, maybe hit a pizza place. Seemed perfect.

The pool, while a little chilly was great. It was a good size, located perfectly to capture the optimal sunshine and well appointed with the finest in lawn furniture. In short, a nice hangout. So, for a while, we pooled. 

At this point, I need to mention two things that have gone without comment during our journey. Thing one was the local store.

On one of the first days at the Villa we grocery shopped at a little market (well, mid-sized) in town. It was nice, convenient, and all of that. While exploring, however, Rachel and Joey found this nifty little (and I mean little) place just down the hill via several trails. As the grocery guy, I spent little time in this awesome spot as it could not compare to the

Rachel and Joey at "the store"

Supercenter: Esselunga di Porcari, which must be Italian for Big Ass Grocery Store. Nonetheless, the final journey to the little store had more meaning as Joey must have walked to it nearly everyday. 

Just up the street from the little store was this "place" that just stood out anytime you looked down the hill from the Villa. We saw this place everyday. We even took a tour of it that cost 12 euros a piece, and for the life of me, I cannot find the name of it. So, I will just say this: it was old, a lot of "important" people had lived in it, and they wouldn't allow you to take pictures inside (rip off). My two fave pics of the outside are along this post.

So, back to the two unmentionables. The second one was my computer. I have/had a 15" Macbook Pro that had served me well for almost four years. On night two at the Villa, I

The house/museum

noticed that instead of going to sleep when unattended, my computer would semi-shut off. While one can be revived from sleep with a tap of any key, I was having to actually turn it on each time. After the fourth episode, my computer said, "sorry, that's it. I'm done." And it died.

Luckily, I had my ipad for some minor computing. The biggest fear was that I had lost a big bunch of info stored after the last backup. Also, luckily, the hard drive was okay. Lesson: computers last about three to four years, plan on it.

Returning from the house/museum, I am completely prepared for what will be one of the big pains of group travel, deciding which pizza place to visit. Well, that never happened as while we were gone an administrative decision was made that instead of going out, we would play potpourri with the contents of the fridge. What???? I thought we had a plan.

The garden of "the place"

Having had enough of the administration, we (Linda and me) decided to revolt. Pizza was the plan, and by God these two rabble rousers were going out for pizza. Rabble, rabble, rabble (or is it rouser, rouser, rouser). After soliciting little support for the revolution, I said to Kyle, "We're going out for pizza anyway. Wanna go?"  Answer: "YOU BET!" So me, Linda, Kyle and Kaycee were off the Pizzeria da Andrea down the hill in Campannori.

Upon entering, you'd have thought these Americans were bringing the plague with them. After crabby greetings, frowns, and somewhat dirty looks, the Americans were given a seat and a girl who spoke a little English to be the sacrificial waitress. But from here on in though, it was all fabulous pizza. We sat, ate, and chatted for an hour. I think I learned more about Kyle in that 60

Bocce by night

minutes than in the 19 preceding years that I have been with his Aunt Linda. And Kaycee, who we just hadn't ever spent a lot of time with, was delightful. 

The drive back was without incident (just turn at Poopy's). "How was the pizza?" was the question. Well, it was fantastic and even if it had been terrible, we'd have said it was fantastic. Administration be damned.

Darkness settled in and the focus turned to the courageous sport of bocce. I have to admit, seeing everyone trying to be awesome at something that looks so simple (and is not) was quite entertaining. Having said that, I will also mention that I NAILED bocce. Well, maybe.

Ciao!

A Trip to Italy (and maybe some runs) Part 8, Firenze and Kevin's Bag and Fish

"All Aboard"

Today (Thursday) had three events on tap: a good run in town, a day trip to Firenze (Florence), and the second catered meal.

The run was simple. I took the shortcut into town, spent most of the time running the flat streets of Camigliano, and came back via the long uphill road part. That road gets amazingly narrow at times and seems safer to run than it does to drive. Still, the way the locals drive, it's smart to be on high alert.

For Florence, Linda, John, Patty, Kyle, Kaycee, Rachel, Joey, and I would drive to Lucca, take the train to Florence and set out for some adventuring. I suppose trains are commonplace in Europe, but we just don't see them all that much in the States. Light Rail, in Denver, is kind of the exception to that rule, but I'm just not sure how much it has caught on even after more than a decade from its opening. Anyway, it just seemed like we were cool, efficient, travelers.

Cathedral Santa Maria del Fiore

"The heat, my God, the heat," says Elaine in Seinfeld. If Lucca was hot, and Siena was hot, Florence set the new standard for hot. It had to have gotten up very close to 100. Unlike Siena, however, I felt rested and ready to go. Once again, we were on the Flexi-plan as far as what we would see and exactly where we would go. While mostly okay with that, in retrospect I would have studied a map and created some kind of constructive plan for the sights I wanted to see. Instead I had a plethora of pictures of these awesome places and I wasn't sure what most of them were. 

There were some great spots visited despite our fake it till you make it philosophy. A central meeting point for the day was around the Piazza del Signoria a very cool area that contained some great shops, restaurant, gelato joints and of course our favorite, Fake

Fake David is near the entrance

David. There are many replicas of Michelangelo's David throughout Europe and especially Italy. The most commonly viewed-as-real one is this one as it is 1) blocks away from the real one, and 2) it's right there in Florence. Nonetheless, Fake David was cool and he'd have to do for now as real David's location was not on my smartphone.

We eventually made it to the river where you could see the the Ponte Vecchio. The Ponte Vecchio has been a bridge, a house, a bridge, shops, a bridge, and is presently a bridge with shops. A law giving the bridge's shops to almost anyone but butchers came about in the 1590's and is in place since. At present jewelers occupy the shops.

Prior to the crossing of the Vecchio, John suggested we cross the river and inspect some great sights AND see the view of Florence from the hillside. We trudged the sidewalk to the next bridge, the Ponte alle Grazie. After what seemed like the longest, hot bridge crossing of all time, I asked, "Where to?" John replied, "Let's just go down to the other bridge and meet up with Patty." Exploration over.

Stairs in Middle, halfway up

We then walked across the Ponte Vecchio, took the standard picture with the river in the background and crossed back to the main side. With a bunch of time to kill before the train back, we chose to walk along the river toward the south end of Florence. We maneuvered through various streets slowly winding our way back. In the wandering, we happened upon a school like setting intersected by a parkway. Halfway through we were met by signs requesting silence for MONKS, I think. If it was a monastery, this one was awesome. Bold and gorgeous and especially check out the stairs heading up in the picture on the left. Might not like this as the way to get to my office. Cool.

Eventually we made out way back to the main drag not far from the train station. We had looked at two things near there, a beautiful purse that Linda loved and a leather bag I'd had my eye on. The purse had left the conversation several hours ago, but the bag lingered. I found it sort of by accident hours earlier.

We had turned a corner near the carousel at the Plaza della Repubblica (right next to the H & M, by the way) a place where there were a BUNCH of street vendors selling leather goods. Immediately upon rounding on the city gate side, it just popped into view. There it was, Kevin Costner's bag.

What? Kevin Costner's bag? Let me explain. At the end of Costner's movie For Love of the Game, he is at the airport ready to leave for London and "go get the girl." Well, Kevin is dressed REALLY well (after all he is a millionaire baseball pitcher in the movie). But better than his awesome coat, better than the very cool shirt, he has this leather carry-on bag over his shoulder. Through the years while Linda has lusted for

Me and Kevin's bag

Kevin, I have longed for the bag. And there it was. Through some streetwise haggling, I left with the bag at what I believed to be a great price. It was my best Italy purchase and the one I still am amazingly excited about.

Bag in hand, we met the entire gang near the train station and headed back to Lucca on the train. Armed with a little time between the train's arrival, the drive to the villa and the second catered dinner, everyone hung out and relaxed.  Hung out: translate - drink and talk.

The second catered meal was, like the first, supposed to be a highlight of the trip. It certainly was expensive enough to be a highlight. And maybe for the finely tuned palates in our party, it was. For me, not so much. But tonight was seafood night, so I was optimistic. Our main chef was a repeat from the first night, our assistant was the first night's assistants Mother.

The first moments are spent with, of course, wine. Chianti Classico is the buzz (not only for the day but for the entire stay) and as I have for most of my entire life, I pass. Just not an alcohol guy and especially not a wine guy (I can whine with the best, however). Next can the

Those little strips on the top
are the fish

clams/mussels/oysters. To be honest I don't know which they were, I treat them all the same: no! Maybe it's a traumatic childhood memory of my Dad eating sardines in his easy chair, but sorry - can't do that consistency and that "slider" thing down my throat.

At some point the fish were presented to us. Four little guys, maybe 12 inches each. I imagine they'd already met their fish maker, so they were about to meet their fish maker (see what I dd there?). Anyway, by the size of the little guys, I could not imagine how we were going to main course 12 people with them. Well, I was right. Not much fish on the plate as you can see. 

On the upside, the bread: awesome. The gnocchi with walnut sauce: excellent. The roasted potatoes: very very good. But after the thrill of trying potato pizza today, everything else didn't quite make the grade. Interestingly, the second catered meal was a turning point for me: every meal from here to the end of the trip was excellent (or maybe it just seemed that way). Yum.

A Trip to Italy (and maybe some runs) Part 7, Siena

Two cute kids at Piazza del Campo

The Flexi-plan became fully functional again today as it seemed that everyone had their own idea for how to spend the day. For Linda and me, we decided to take "Chiara's Car" to Siena.

Siena was first occupied by the Etruscans sometime between 900 and 400 BC. It has a long and somewhat checkered past. Far enough from Rome to be seen as a red headed step child historically (no offense to red headed step children), it prospered more because of its time under the rule of the Lombards and the subsequent conquering by Charlemagne. Always known for their advances in irrigation and architecture, the area spent much time as an affluent trading post. It survived the Italian War of 1551-59, Spanish occupation afterward, and finally became a part of the unification of Italy in the nineteenth century.

We found our way via some back roads, a freeway, and a tollway. Eventually (actually slightly less than two hours) we arrived in Siena. Here's what we knew: there was one of the world's largest piazzas, the Piazza del Campo, and it was a nice place to visit.

Linda's Bruschetta

A little tired from yesterday's adventure on the Luccan Walls, walking around Siena did not seem to be high on my list as a fun activity. Add to that the fact that Linda was also tired AND it was going to be big time HOT, we may not have been the most dedicated explorers. In fact, I'm guessing we missed a ton of cool things simply because we were tired of walking.

Our first mission, however, was to find the Piazza del Campo. We figured there would be some nice photo ops, lunch, and maybe post-lunch gelato. We were correct on all three counts. The Piazza was huge although certainly not overcrowded like some of the places we'd visited. Restaurants, shops, and hotel rooms surrounded the area. People were scattered in the middle soaking up the sunshine and gazing at the other people walking around gazing at those gazing at them. Pretty laid back.

We ate at a little place called La Mossa and then walked the perimeter of the piazza. Linda has a tomato thing (that frankly I don't have) and what that means in Italy is Bruschetta. This, I guess, was one of the better ones during the trip. I got overly risky and tried the spaghetti and meatballs (better than Olive Garden for sure). 

Siena Cathedral

What strikes you most about the shops and restaurants in El Campo is the constant reference to Palio di Siena, the horse race depicted in the James Bond movie Quantum of Solice. It is run twice a year and is an extremely important part of Siena's present culture. The streets were a little wider than Lucca (except of course, the Lucca "trail" - sorry still carrying bitterness), the pace was slower than Rome or Florence. It was very laid back and we appreciated that. The problem, however, was still the heat. As the afternoon sun rose, we would cling to the sides of the street that had some semblance of shade. 

We saw the Duomo Siena but barely went inside (I read that it is gorgeous) and did not under any circumstances do it justice. We went in and out of some awesome shops, especially a little pottery place at the base of the steps near the cathedral. All in all, we were toast, or maybe toasted. Wearily, we decided to make our way back to the car and head to the Villa. Unfortunately, several hundred yards from our destination, I

Leonardo doing chalk work?

reached in my pocket and did not feel my International Driver's License. Holy Crap!

The next twenty minutes were a tizzy of looking, re-tracing, and lamenting. Like in the US, not having your license when driving is only an issue if you are asked for your license when driving. Since I don't speed and I have conquered being the chill, laid back Italian driver, I wasn't overly worried about this. What did occur to me however, was that I might be the evil American who gets sent to Italian prison for not having his driver's license, probably a life sentence for an American. At some point, I remember thinking, "maybe I left it in the car." Huh.... crisis over.

The drive back was uneventful but air conditioned (thanks Chiara). Dinner was a spaghetti thing (didn't see that coming when I'd ordered lunch) that Kevin and Alex made for everyone. As usual, much to drink, lots of chat, in bed early.

BTW, ran 3 miles in the morning.

A Trip to Italy (and maybe some runs) Part 6, Lucca and Me

The Walls of Lucca

Unguided trips come in three types: the free for all, the tightly run ship, and the flexi-schedule. We were on the flexi. John had planned a few excursions and made them pillars of the itinerary, but at the same time there were some days that were wide open for individual variation. Today, Tuesday, was open.

For most everyone, this meant a day to sleep in (wait, I thought they did that most every day) and hang out at the pool. While the pool part sounded okay to me, the sleep late thing just isn't my scene. This morning was designed to do one thing: run the wall in Lucca.

The first fortification to protect Lucca was built by the Romans in 180 BC. That sucker lasted until 1118 when Lucca became a Comune (roughly translated: a municipality) and a second set was added. Two hundred years later as the city grew even more it was clear the walls would need to be expanded. As often happens in politics, however, the job didn't get accomplished until much later with

The tunnel was cool and kinda spooky

construction beginning in 1504 creating what we see today.

The walls were, frankly, just kind of cool. It's sort of a Roman testament to Robert Frost's idea that "good fences make good neighbors." Plus, "something there is that doesn't love a wall," right?

So the wall was my destiny. I had read that there was a trail on top of the wall that surrounded the city. You could walk, run, bike there and it was 5K (3.1 miles) in length. I imagined it to be awesome.

I decided to park outside the wall at a nearby soccer stadium. I chose this venue for three reasons: 1) it is right across the street from the wall, 2) easy to find upon completion of the run, 3) it was free (and with free came not having to navigate a Luccan parking payment machine). As you approach the city walls, it's clear they were fairly serious about keeping

One of many alcove sculptures

folks out. The wall is maybe 12-15 feet high and extremely fortified. To enter you must go through tunnels. These two features made the wall pretty protective. You weren't going over it easily AND the tunnels were designed to make it easy to "surprise" enemies on their way through. Now, I only went through the tunnel in one location, but it also had some pretty cool sculptures in some of the alcoves. I'm guessing they were not part of the 1500's version.

My goal was simple: three laps at 3.1 miles and I would get in my longest run in a very long time, over 9 miles. My knee had been fairly cooperative on the trip and this would be a good test. From the get-go I sensed a bigger problem looming and that was the heat. It was 8:15 am and we were already pushing 29 degrees (85 Fahrenheit) and I had no plan for carrying water. Undaunted, I made my way to the trail. Here's where things became somewhat different than what I had envisioned: the "trail" was wide, and I mean WIDE. It was easily wider than nearly every street I had driven in Italy, wider than the track in Rome. It was like running the road in Wash Park in Denver. And people were everywhere. 

All of a sudden, my vision changed. I was no longer running atop the Luccan walls, I was just another person doing laps on the "road" in the park. It was a tough pill to swallow. I thought it would be really cool, and now I had to consciously think about where I was running for it to be cool. As my mind's master, however, I was barely able to hang onto threads of coolness.

The first lap was easy and uneventful until just before it was completed. It was then I noticed that this was NOT 3.1 miles, it was barely going to be two and a half. Now, I am really disappointed. Who are they trying to kid? My Garmin isn't always right but it isn't this wrong? Well, NOW how many laps do I have to do? (math, math, math, math....). Needless to say, I pressed on despite my total contempt for every person who had referred to this as a "5K trail."

The "trail" on the Wall

Lap two was run in the same direction as lap one: counter-clockwise. I decided that I liked the familiarity of repeating, it might make the lap go more quickly and easily. Then I could change directions for lap three and finish the abominable partial lap four however I please. 

I was right, lap two was nice.

Lap three, however, brought about two issues. The first was that once again I was irritated by the many references to a lap being 5K (math, math, math). Second, it was getting hotter. Clearly over 30 degrees by now and oh yeah, there was that third thing: I was getting tired. Lap three, if the truth must be told, was long and slower (if that was even a possibility because I am SLOW). Maybe it was longer and slower because I was tired and hot ORRRRR.... maybe it was this clockwise direction where the road was measured to be 5K. Hmmmmm, conspiracy theory..... think about it.

Finishing lap three after 7.8 miles, I must trudge another 1.2 (still irritated about that). I decide to go out and back and track down what I had thought was a drinking fountain. YES! Found it! Doused my head, drank a bunch and finished the lying 1.2 miles without suffering heat collapse (small exaggeration). 9 miles in the books. Temp at finish: 34 degrees (just a little over 93). Total time: never mind.

In the end, it all came down to this: I ran 9 miles on the walls of Lucca. It was cool.

Now, bring on the pool.

A Trip to Italy (and maybe some runs) Part 5, Lucca and Puccini

The narrow road to town

When this trip first came on the radar, I had one thought: opera. After considerable research, it came down to two words that go together SO well: Lucca, Puccini. SO, it was on and today, Monday was the day.

My morning began with a run down the hill into town and around. Two things about this were important. 1) The town is cute with maximum charm and 2) I could recon the right move so that getting "lost" would become a thing of the past. Well, success on number 1, ehhhh, maybe a couple more days until the route became second nature. As runs go at this time of my life, it wasn't bad. My knee lived through 7 miles despite the long climb back, and I was ready to meet the rest of the day.

We loaded up two cars (hey, I have AC in mine!), and headed for Lucca, a wonderful town about 15 miles to the West. After negotiating the challenge of paying for public parking, and prepping for the heat (it was going up to like 95), we were on our way to a day within the walls of Lucca.

Add caption

Lucca was founded by the Etruscans in around 180BC. It was, in fact, the site of the alliance known as The First Triumvirate, a political agreement between Julius Caesar, Pompay, and Crassus in 60 BC. Go ahead, look it up! Anyway, Lucca sits within the Walls of Lucca which were built in the early 16th century. The Walls are intact today and surround the city. While we did not explore the walls on our walk that day, I would explore them a bunch the following day.

I LOVE LUCCA! I could have easily been convinced to rent a flat and hang out there for a long, long time. While it is loaded with classic cathedrals, piazzas and the usual drill, it had a much homier feel than Rome, Florence, or Siena. Having said that, our first Lucca meal experience left quite a bit to be desired.

Hot and thirsty, we dropped into a little place ticked in a corner of a dead end. Looked like the perfect place to hang out, have some great food, and enjoy a taste of Italy. Wrong, Wrong, Wrong. Don't get me wrong, I know that Americans aren't beloved in every corner of

the globe. And I know that every one of us has an invisible (to us) brand on our foreheads that must say "Obnoxious American," but hey, that's not me. I'm trying to peacefully get along, respect the locals, enjoy this wonderful area, and understand the greater good. AND.... don't we still get a few points for getting rid of Mussolini? (Okay, sure, I rooted for Lance Armstrong to crush Marco Pantani at the Tour, but hey....).

The rest of the day, awesome. Fabulous shops (bought a silk Italian tie), great pottery, awesome old buildings all leading up to the goal, the opera. In the end, I walked another 6 miles. 

Lucca is the birthplace and home of Giacomo Puccini, one of my three favorite composers of opera. In his honor, every night, at the Church of San Giovanni, a "recital style" opera would be held. The theme would change with one night being A Night at the Opera, Puccini and Verdi, Puccini's Women, and our performance, Puccini and Mozart. It did not disappoint.

There were three performers: an excellent pianist named Diego Fiorini, an engaging Soprano named Fabiola Formiga, and a booming Baritone, Michele Pierleoni. She came on for the first piece and sang like heaven. Just when I was positive it couldn't get better, HE came on in a voice that ROCKED the place. They sang from Le Nozze di Figaro (Mozart's finest in my opinion) and DonGiovanni while delighting us with Puccini's Tosca, La Boheme, Le Violli.... among others (unfortunately no Madama Butterfly). WOW!

An outdoor dinner at the plaza near Chiesa di San Michele in Foro was the perfect end to a fabulous day/evening. The opera made me smile. I was able to wear the opera smile for a few days, and can even conjure it up right this moment.

All in all, the best day.

A Trip to Italy (and maybe some runs) Part 4, Who's Lost?

The Villa

My non-international experience got the best of me this morning. I awoke at 5:45, pretty normal for me. I made my way to the living room (which was the wifi room as no other rom provided a very strong connection) and waited for Blane. Our loose plan (although it seemed pretty tight to me) was to go for a morning run together. So, I waited. I paced a lot, I went down to what could have been a pretty great meditation rock if it wasn't for the bugs and got....well, bit. Then decided to explore some of the hillside trail just below the villa. Out a half a mile, back a half a mile. Out another direction, back to the beginning. After about 3 1/2 miles of this I decided to head up to the entrance rode, run down the hill into town and back. BTW, you know when it's steep and painful DOWNhill that turning around won't be pleasant. Yep, still true. Got in 6 miles nonetheless.

Oh, sorry, anyway, my non-international experience.... See, I'm up, I'm in Italy, I'm READY to go!!!! Not so much everyone else. Most of them didn't begin moving around until at least 9 AND my honey slept till almost 11 am that morning. Yikes! I couldn't do that on a bet.

I turn where?

For the most part it was a day for finding the right place to grocery shop, enjoying the pool, and soaking in the vibe of the villa. 

Then came the problem. Not a BIG problem mind you, just a pain in the ass kind of problem. The navigation on "Chiara's car" was Italian Tom Tom. Translation: it sucked. SO, on the way back from the super Italian grocery store, the guidance proved to be non-guiding (and we actually FOUND the super store by accident). 30 minutes of my life that I'll never get back trying to remember where that road that leads up to the villa might be. I had that happen a few more times before I learned to successfully navigate our non-navigation system (it became all about making the turn at Poopy's Pizza (not it's real name, I think it was Poppi's or Puppy's or something. I just called it Poopy's). Poopy was the key, once I was at Poopy, I knew where I was.

Nonetheless, my coolness under navigational fire became my persona for the rest of the trip. My new attitude became, "whatever, I'll find it," OR "we'll figure it out." That be calm, be cool attitude came from one place and one place only: my ability to let go. That, of course, was based in my "In then end, who gives a rats ass?" philosophy. A great no-fail travel outlook, I believe. Helped me anyway.

Kevin's Birthday

Sunday was one of two nights where a chef prepared our dinner. I remember completing the dinner survey: which thing would you pick, what would you like etc.... Upon completion, I was pretty sure that if these meal choices were what I would have to eat for the rest of my life, I would become stylishly slender in no time. I like my fish cooked, my cheese on pizza, and tomatoes, well..... not at all. I recall the gnocchi being good and after that......

On the upside was that it was Kevin's birthday. We turned dinner into a nice celebration.  As per usual, dinner was followed by another night of drinking and chatting. While I totally get this phenomenon, I have to confess that since I don't drink and since most of the chatting is older their-side-of-the-family stories, my participation was minimal.

10:30 came around and I was off the hook and into the bed (Large group travel tip: once you've established yourself as the early to bed guy AND you don't drink, you've pretty much guaranteed that you won't have to stay up too late). SO...... night night.

A Trip to Italy (and maybe some runs) Part 3, Rome is For Runners

Piazza del Popolo

Somehow when you jump time zones, time disappears. And somehow, I lost Friday. I'm sure it was a good day, I just feel kind of bad that I have no recollection of it (unfortunately, that may become a more "normal" happening  as age creeps in).

So upon awakening at what we will describe as "my normal time," I am off to take on a real run in Rome. I decide that I want to run from the hotel to Estadio Olimpico (the Olympic Stadium). The prescribed route is simple, a nice out and back. 

The early section (mile and a half or so) was through the streets of Rome, the Strada di Roma. Early enough to not be to busy and full of the buzz of a potentially hopping Saturday.

Church of Saint Mary

The route took me through the Piazza del Popolo, site of Rome's oldest obelisk and of the city's northern gate. Right there as well is the Church of Saint Mary 'in Montesanto' which is like these two identical churches that sit across the street from each other.

From the gate I continue North through a cute little coffee shop/market neighborhood before heading over to the road that parallels the River Tiber. I thought this was going to be much cooler as the map showed it to be along the river. Well, "along" the river meant up on a road lined with tennis courts and condos. Then finally, to the left, was the stadium. I crossed the bridge, avoided some traffic, and then looped the place looking for the possibility of sneaking inside. No dice.

Instead, I hit the practice track, the Stadio del Marmi. Now I'm not sure what that means, who is Marmi after all, but I do know that the track is lined with these awesome statues and columns. It also references Pietro Mennea, the great Italian sprinter of the 70's. Well, if you're stuck on a practice track, this is the one to be stuck on..... beautiful. I looped a few times, hit the outside trail around the big stadium and decided to head back as we were off to Tuscany later in the day.

Stadio del Marmi

Happily I made it back to the hotel without incident even though I neglected to have the hotel's address for GPS purposes. I relied on my natural instincts. On the way back, I passed a Nike store and decided that it would be how I would kill the post shower/pre train to Florence time period. I would love to tell you how great it was but I have slowly learned something in life: a Nike store, is a Nike store, is a Nike store. Nothing overly cool. Nothing uniquely Italian.

We bid Le Hotel Feniche a fond farewell and we're off to Firenze (Florence) by train. From there it would be rental cars to the villa, just outside of Camigliano.

Nike

First, the Florence train station is, pardon the expression, a train wreck. Massive confusion everywhere, tons of people attempting to navigate the correct ramp, not the finest accommodations for waiting (unlike the Rome train station which was awesome - well except for the catacombs - but that's for another day). All in all, not the most pleasant experience. So, slightly on the crabby side, I am informed by my Brother-in-law, John that we will have to get our rental cars separately instead of together as we thought. Okay, no problem, I'm good at this.

I get Chiara. John gets "other girl." John begins by having some kind of paperwork hassle with "other girl," while I score MAJOR points being able to pronounce Chiara in a way that makes me sound Italian. "Wow, you're one of the few people who can pronounce my name," she said. I could go on about this and relate it to my vast travel/rental car and kissing up

Chiara's Car

experience, but I won't, except to say this: John got a Citron, ugly green hatchback without air conditioning. I got a Fiat 500L Black with leather, sunroof and air. Enough said.

The drive to the villa was about 50 minutes. As mentioned, the villa is outside Camigliano on the hillside. It's a heck of a climb even in Chiara's car but worse on the run as I would find the next day. We arrive, meet up with the rest of the gang (Blane, Leslie, Kevin, Alex), pick roms and get settled in. Cutting to the chase, the place was gorgeous. Here's a link if you'd like to check it out: https://buralla.weebly.com/ 

The rest of the evening was spent exploring, eating, chatting. Much wine was consumed (not by me, I don't drink), much catching up was done. By 10 pm, I am BURNT! It was perfect, just like home, early to bed, early to rise. Ciao.